Pretending
by Make-Me-Numb
Summary: Pretending to love in an arena isn't the right way to win. Finding herself trapped between possible fame or death, a socially inept girl will try and win the Hunger Games. Even though her mentor restricted her strategy, Esmay will not be able to survive with his wicked plan. Will she be able to see the unrequited love, and realize that there is no other way to live than to kill?
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note: Ok, so this is my first story, which I've been planning for about a year, but never got the guts to actually write like all you beautiful inspiring writers out there. It's basically just an other tributes story, of her games and her life. Romance will be included further as well as some violence. I know this seems like a 'déjà vu', but give me a chance? English is my second language, so I happily accept all you suggestions on my writing skills... As well as your comments and critiques about the story in general, I really want to get better in narration. I hope you like it and review! Enjoy!  
**

**Disclaimer: The characters which you don't recognize from the books, are mine, the others are Suzanne Collins'. I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins does. **

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Reaped  
**

_Drip. Drip. _

Silent is the sound of the buzzing rain that hits my warm skin. Still, I can hear every single drop, forming a constant rhythm, almost matching the beating of my heart. These rainy mornings have always been the greatest. Well, they were always the same, here in district six. Dim and cold, my eyes get lost in the fog that surrounds the larch trees standing weak, like bones on a field. Having hopeless expectations, I would be lying if I said that I'm happy. I am not and I don't think I will ever be. I always had a reserved and unusual character, but never did I think I'd turn out to be this bad. I never cared for others, since they never bothered with me. I never believed in love, since the ones that I loved didn't have the same feelings.

"May… Get your ass back in here… I don't want you to be late." says a grunt voice from the kitchen. I don't flinch nor respond, standing still and soundless in the doorway, listening to the rain that is pouring from the grey sky.

I live alone, with him, the man I once considered as my dear daddy. He used to be one handsome young man, blonde hair blown by the wind, like a prince coming from the sand of our dreams. I don't recognize him anymore, not since my mother, Gemini, died. She didn't wake up, when I jumped on her bed, on my tenth birthday. I still remember the needles on her bedside, as well as the rough way my father tried to put his hand over my mouth, as I screamed out my lungs. My tears fell for her, until I realized that they were useless, that she wasn't coming back. I was never going to see her tired smile again, when I was trying to braid her light chestnut hair. Since then, father always got wasted. It was usually over mother's death or my lackadaisical attitude. Father always used to say that my spiritless personality was driving him sick. But he eventually got used to it, judging it was better for me to stay silent. A simple way to keep my mouth shut about things I wasn't supposed to mention.

"I know ya heard me…" he shouts a little bit louder. I can hear the slight drunken haze in his voice. Predictably, he is hangover. As bad as I don't want to leave my spot, I still get back in. Our house, full of mold, is an antiquity, which my grand-parents bought, when their first and only child was born. Eventually they both died of heart attack, leaving the house, as well as their decent money, to mother and her 'family'. She didn't make good use of it.

Climbing up the few stairs to the level above, I make sure to walk on tip-toes, not daring to take father's attention from the cup of tea towards which his eyes are intently staring. I am not scared of him in any sort, I just don't like being around him. The less we talk; the better.

The rooms are small and few, me sleeping upstairs on the dusty bed, while father sleeps downstairs in the living room, on the holed couch. And that is only on the best nights, since he usually doesn't even come home. He passes most of his nights out in bars, smuggling or even just hanging out with random women. Not that I care. He once slept outside on the porch, too drunk to find the handle of the door. I didn't bother with him, leaving him to shiver in the darkness. It was his choice after all.

We don't even act like a family anymore. We work to feed ourselves, and only spend equally to pay the rent. The rest is all separate, as if we don't even know each other. Not that it bothers me; I always thought that it was better this way. I didn't want to get involved in his illegal businesses. Therefore, I didn't get in trouble for the past few years. I'm not even sure that somebody would ever recognize me in the district. It's not even assured that I have a future waiting ahead of me. What am I even supposed to do in this pathetic life?

According to the Capitol, district six is supposed to provide transportation, constantly building and repairing hovercrafts, cars, trains and all the engines you can imagine, but will never ride, unless you're a conductor. But under the shadows and poverty of the district, everybody knows that six is one of the greatest places to supply you with morphling, drugs and other medicine. It is black market, but people can't prevent the desire to need the medication they rely on. Almost everybody here will fall in that trap once in their lives. Mother did. Hopefully, I didn't follow her path. Still, her life seemed so much more exciting than mine.

Today, with my lack of social skills, I don't have any friends or anybody else. The only thing that can make me smile is probably dancing at the music in my head, as my toes get sore because of the rough ground under them. Mother loved music, always playing on her broken piano, singing wicked lyrics. Father loved her voice filled with lush and pouting lips. I barely even remember it. I can only recall some of the melodies, as she lusciously harmonized the tones, while I silently danced, my feet matching the rhythm of her rimes.

Still, time for dancing is rare, as I always have to work, ten hours a day, as a mechanic, repairing train and hovercraft pieces. I left school at fifteen. After mother died, father didn't have enough money to feed both of us. School was full of bullies and working is boring, still it keeps me alive. But it isn't enough; with my slim pay, I have to take out a bunch of tesserae each year, increasing my chances of getting reaped. This year isn't different. Today isn't different. There are at least 15 slips with my name, Esmay Warpmond, in the girl's bowl. It's still a slim chance, considering that most of children have an average of 25 slips. Not that I care. I wouldn't be much of a lost to this world if I died. My father would slightly struggle to pay the rent and the tax, but he wouldn't care less.

As I get upstairs, I tug out a powdery skirt from under a pile of clothes that lay on the chair near my small bed. I do not own a wardrobe. Not that I need one. All my outfits wickedly smell gas, while my boots are always covered in dirt and fuel oil. If mother would be alive, she would lecture me about my hygiene. But she isn't. I miss her, but I won't even admit it to myself. She wasn't the perfect mother; still, she was good enough for me. Sighing, I pull up the skirt with difficulty, matching it with my usual reaping white blouse. I have the same outfit for years now. It begins to get small, with my height of 5'8. Ruffling my long dark hair to make it dry faster, I stumble down the stairs, pick up my boots, before running outside.

"See you there…" I mutter rudely to father, before harshly closing the door. As the rain drops flow on my freckled skin, my cotton shirt sticking to my flesh, I begin to walk, the black leather on my feet stomping on the muddy road.

Reaping days are always the same, here in district six. Wet children hurry to the square, dreading for two names to be called, only to return safely home. Unfortunately, there are always two kids who are sent to the Capitol, along with twenty-two others, to slaughter each other until only one is left. I never complained about the games. They are unfair for most of the districts, but everybody has to accept the fact that we don't live in an ideal world, therefor; there will always be leaders and underdogs. Still, Panem earned the Hunger Games when they rebelled in the Dark Days. The games seem logically structured; you go in, charm the Capitol, play by the rules, kill your opponents, give them a show and survive. Truthfully speaking, the games would be quite simple if it wouldn't include the gamemaker's tricks. Not that killing human beings wouldn't affect me. That's why district six only has five victors; we are quite sensible to the challenges of life. More than half of the citizens here use drugs to ease psychological pain. In fact, the only time district six got a little attention was when, a couple of years ago, a tribute resorted to cannibalism to survive. Father used to work with Titus, the boy seemed perfectly sane. Since then, district six didn't have any victors. Not even a slim chance of winning.

* * *

Arriving at the square, head down, I slowly walk to my assigned place in the seventeen olds section. Not daring to look up at the girls chatting silently around me, I let the rain stream on my cheeks, not minding the mess I became on the road. As the strident sound of the mike rings, silence settles in the crowd.

Mayor Hone climbs on the stage, followed by the few victors and of course, Daphna Bloom. She has been our escort for a few years now. Still, she seems quite young, almost ageless, always dressed in the softest colors possible, not matching the dark landscape of district six. I've always admired her. Shy of nature, with a fairy like shaped face, her smile always succeeds to ravish us. It is evident that she doesn't enjoy reaping children that are sent to death.

"Greetings district six. Welcome to the reaping of the 68th annual Hunger Games." she speaks up with her smooth anxious voice, nervously turning the handle of her baby pink umbrella. She then hands the mike to the mayor, her movements as gracious and slow as a swan's.

As usual, the mayor reads the Treaty of Treason about how they invented the games, to remind us of our uprising against the Capitol in the 'Dark Days'. I don't even look at the stage or the screens, almost dreading the moments that are to come. I wanted to volunteer a few years ago, knowing that I wasn't any use to be in my father's path, as well as to take the place of a girl whose life could be more eventful and interesting than mine. But I didn't, judging it would be better if I didn't get in the way of fame and possible death. Besides, volunteering is considered as suicide in district six. There is no way someone is trained and ready to fight to death here.

As silence settles again, Daphna slowly walks to the boy's bowl. Breathing out heavily, she picks out a small slit between her lavender nails, as the rain begins to pour harder. Stumbling in her white sky high heels, she reaches for the mike, before giving out the name of the unlucky boy.

"And the male tribute is… Daviel Frisch." she says, before flashing a concerned smile to the boy's section. Instantly, a tall boy from the sixteen year olds steps on to the stage, the water from his messy brown hair dripping on his jaw. As he turns to face the crowd, I can immediately see the smug smile on his lips, as his eyes dart back and forth between Daphna's cleavage and his friends, probably. Rolling my eyes, I can already see Daviel die in the bloodbath. Acting like the games are a joke won't bring him far. But who am I to judge? It's better to smile than break down and cry in front of the whole nation.

As I hear Daphna's heels clack on the wet stage, I realize that she is already heading for the girl's bowl. Dropping my head, looking at my legs, I can hardly hear any breaths around me, as our escort noisily unfolds the paper. Clenching my teeth tightly, heart beating fast, I look up as her fine coral lips open, her platinum long blonde hair fluttered by the wind.

I hope it isn't me, even if a part of my consciousness tells me that being reaped is probably the best thing that could happen to me. I could be free, even if it would be just for a rare glimpse of liberty, before dying. I could abandon this hopeless home and never come back. District six isn't where I belong. Still, there is a frail voice that tells me that I could never make through the games. I would be a desperate prey.

"And the female tribute is…Esmay Warpmond." she chirps sweetly, before looking at our section, searching for the unfortunate face.

Looking around myself, I can only wonder what the others are arching their heads for. Daphna said my name. The name of the doomed child is mine. I am the female tribute of district six for the 68th Hunger Games. Swallowing hard, I can hardly realize that the interrogative faces around me, are actually searching for me. They don't recognize me, of course. Sighing, I know I can't stay anonymous for long; the peacekeepers will finish by looking for me. And I'll be in trouble. Stumbling slightly in my black boots, I walk securely, getting out from the row, feeling every piercing stare on me. Back arched, chin up, I unemotionally look at Daphna's feeble smile, as I reach the stairs to my faith. Seeing my face on the screens, I barely fall apart, as I register what truly happened. Confusion emerges in the lightness of my grey eyes as I struggle with my sudden fright.

"Your tributes for the 68th Hunger Games! Shake hands…" chants Daphna in a sing song voice, playing her role. Daviel and I shake hands, as he gives me a wink with a vicious smile. Almost raising an eyebrow, I keep my mouth in a firm line, not willing to display weakness. The hand shake lasting a little too long for my taste, I pull away, facing the crowd, as I don't recognize any familiar faces. These games will definitely be my downfall. Nobody will mourn me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Chapter 2 is already up! No, I'm not crazy, for updating this fast, I actually already had this chapter done. It usually takes me about a week or less to do a chapter... And, oh my god. Really thanks you! I never thought I would get 2 follows and a review in less than 24 hours! I'm really happy that you like it :) So, here's the second chapter, slightly longer with more dialogue... I hope you guys like it, and review! It keeps me going! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. **

* * *

**Chapter 2 - Fooled**

Darting my eyes back in forth between the crowd and the screen, my face is getting wetter, no tears in the mix. I refuse to cry. I didn't cry since mother left. The crowd stares at me vigilantly, probably thinking about how they won't have any victors this year. And they are presumably right. But they don't _know _me. Even though I might be unavailing and weak, I will try to win. Not for father, nor for the district. I will play the games for myself; to be somebody else, to feel more depth, to feel alive. Even if it requires my death, I will pursue my beliefs.

Keeping my features cold and blank, our escort guides us into the Justice Building. Rough peacekeeper hands crawl into my weak arms, making me slightly yank in surprise. I don't see Daviel at my side anymore; he probably got urged in another room.

I don't have any opinion about him. At first view, he definitely comes out plain and the usually cocky boy. Hopefully, he could pull himself out successfully of the arena if I die before him.

Pushing me in a luxurious room, I catch myself staring at the dark window, immobile, not registering the space around me. The walls covered in beautiful gold and red tapestry remind me of the dresses mother used to wear on reaping days or when she was singing. She was a sumptuous woman who took care of herself, but who got hauled by the medicine. She lived fast and died young. She won't be coming through this door today, to see me one last time. And I don't think father will either.

Inhaling the humid scent of my wet hair, I slowly walk to the window. I can't see anything, the rain obscuring my view, as I slightly put my numb fingers on the cold glass. No footsteps can be heard from the hallway, leaving me and the room in an absolute silence. I don't even think that a peacekeeper is at the door anymore. I could escape, run away and miss out the games. But where would I go? I've got nothing left to loose here, I would have a better role in the Hunger Games than in life.

Suddenly, I hear the door unlock. Not even turning around, I can recognize, from the slow and lumpy sound he makes when he walks towards me, that it's my father. I never thought he would come. My back to him, I don't dare to face him, not wanting to see the expression that covers his figure.

"Don't trust anyone…" he says abruptly, staying far from me. Half turning around, I look at him, not recognizing the broken aura of his eyes. He never looked at me like this. His stare makes me somewhat believe that he still cares. Still, the firm and soundless line his lips are in, reflect otherwise. I remain quiet, looking at him anxiously, not knowing what to do. Still, his wise words can only mean good. Mother trusted him, and was brought down. I never pardoned father for his acts. But deep inside, we both know that he had to stop her suffering.

Pushing the thought away, I only have time to see father come towards me, before he warps his arms around my frail body. Putting his towering hands over my shoulders, he brings me in an awkward hug, like the ones I used to have before we fell apart. Not leaning in, I stay as still as marble, feeling the warmth of his alcoholic breath on my face as he pulls way.

"Make your mother proud…" he whispers, before dropping something hard in my bare hands, and quickly leaving. Abandoning me there, with a dice in between my fingers, I stare at the door. He left me here, to surrender to my fate. His words still echoing in the air, I can only think how foolish it was of him to say such a thing. I can't make mother proud, she's dead. And so will I be, in a few weeks, unless some sort of miracle happens. She didn't make me proud, so why would_ I_ make her proud?

I think I'm dumb. I would try to make her proud no matter if she would be still alive, a junkie, or dead.

* * *

Eventually, some white suited man pulls me from the golden room, throwing me back next to Daphna, in direction of the train. Cameras flashing, white lights and a loud buzz are the first things I see and hear. Quickly pushing me and Daviel in front of the train, Daphna squeezes in between us, flashing a charming smile to the photographers, before urging us into the train. I guess I won't be the first choice for sponsors this year, not with the worn out green skirt and muddy boots I'm still wearing. Still, I will have plenty of time to impress them in the Capitol. Fancy velvet chairs and tasty patisseries wait for us, as the sound of the mob decreases.

"Now my dears, you can settle down and taste some of those delicious cookies… I'm going to search for your mentors." our escort murmurs, before leaving the compartment. Daphna doesn't have that Capitolian accent we always hear on TV, she actually sounds like a fairy, a slightly anxious one. What is she stressed about? I have no idea.

Daviel immediately goes for the food, not losing a minute of grace. Not minding him, I sit down hesitantly on a red loveseat half covered in a white fur blanket, like the fluffy coat mother used to wear. Her family was rich, as rich as you can be in district six at least, until they all got ruined because of the drugs. The white pelage eventually got black and dirty, just as her brain. Looking at the rain still falling on the window, I remember all the times I used to wear that coat after her death, until father had to sell it, not having enough money for his unhealthy necessities.

With a filled plate, Daviel comes and sits down opposite me, a small table in between us. His messy brown hair still wet, I wonder for how long he didn't eat. He seems well build for a sixteen year old. We don't talk, but the gaze he gives me says enough. With that playful smile and raised eyebrows, Daviel will totally die if he continues to give me that teasing look. Not that I plan to kill him. People like him just don't tend to last.

Narrowing my attention from my district partner, I look down in the palm of my hands, founding what I've been clenching to since I left the Justice Building. I have no idea what the six faced dice father gave me means. It is clear that it's meant to be my token, but this small black cube has no utter meaning for me. It's probably another of his jokes. Not that I care, I don't need anything to remind me of the tedious 'home' I now, once had.

"Did we ever meet before? You look familiar…" asks Daviel with a smirk playing on his lips, before looking back down to his famous meal. His voice sounds slightly childish, even though I know he couldn't be immature.

"I don't think so." I respond tickly, cutting it short, not wanting to form any relationship with him. He will eventually get killed, if I want to survive. Plus, he isn't worth my time. Even though I don't have a plan yet, I know that having a close friendship with my district partner isn't the right way to play it. I will return to the hell of district six in a wood coffin if I even try to have any sympathy for this kid.

"I swear I saw you somewhere…" he whispered again, looking up, a bashful gaze shadowing on his face. Shifting my eyes far into his, I try to decide whether or not he's messing with me just to get my attention. Eventually he drops his eyes, smiling in defeat. Pushing my thoughts on how hungry I actually am, seeing Daviel putting pastries after fruits in his mouth doesn't help. Deciding not to surrender the temptation to steal something from his plate, I keep my hands forcefully clenched by my side.

Wondering, I can't decide where Daviel must have seen me. His doubts are surely false, since my life for the past few years has been a lonely graveyard, where nobody came to mourn or pray for their lost ones. I always kept to myself, trying my best to not get noticed, pass as a shadow without a voice. Responding when asked, but never questioning. The truth is: I don't appreciate society. People are deceiving, and they only make fools of themselves when they talk. Silence is the answer to all problems. _In my case._

Daviel and I don't speak during our wait for our mentors. I eventually serve myself with a few pieces of cakes and sweets. Never did I taste something as smooth and sugary. Sitting back down opposite my district partner, I look at each of his movements, discretely. Alert, I raise an eyebrow as he opens his mouth to speak. But he never gets to say a word, interrupted by Daphna making a noisy entrance, as she stumbles once again in her heels, her tight mini dress lifting a few inches. The women following her lets out an aggressive growl, mad at our escort who accidentally stepped on her foot.

"Gush… Can't you be clumsier you little bitch?" she asks sarcastically, dangerously defying Daphna with a stare that could kill her instantly. The woman is none-other than Aster Fastrack, winner of the 51th Hunger Games. Her temper always on the edge, she is one of the most senseless victor of district six. Not that we have many. She is just utterly mean with everybody, always ready to snap. Still, everybody knows she's completely miserable. Her black makeup, dirty blonde hair and yellowish skin clearly reflect her agonized personality, as well as her drug use, which isn't surprising. Truthfully, I understand why Daphna is looking at her with wide eyes, not sure what move to make, by fear of disappointing again.

"Drop it Aster… She isn't worth it." calmly states the tall old man behind Aster, as he passes between the two rivals, breaking their stares. He comes to sit down next to Daviel, as he warmly smiles at both of us. Incredibly tall, the old man must be one of the first victors of district six, since I never saw him before.

"Well hello… I'm Helis and that is Aster…We shall be your mentors." he says, smoothly pointing behind himself to where Aster is rolling her eyes, serving herself a glass of wine. Daphna stays quiet, taking small steps to the seat next to me, still under shock of her encounter with the devil.

"I pick the boy. The girl seems weak." says suddenly Aster, giving me a disgusted look, before passively sucking on her drink, staying near the rest of the alcohol. Unsurprisingly, she reminds me of my father. Daviel grins maliciously, while Helis scowls, not accepting Aster's attitude. Giving me a half smile, Daphna tries her best to console me. Not that I need any of her pity. Deep in me, I knew that this truthful confession was coming. I_ am_ weak.

"I will not bear to hear such words from your mouth, Aster. We are here to help these children, not to…" Helis begins, but is interrupted by Aster's loud voice.

"Oh please, Helis. We both know she doesn't stand a chance!" she scoffs, laughing hysterically.

"Good then. I will mentor young…Esmay here, and we shall see who will survive longer." says Helis, before proudly standing up, casually taking my hand in his large one, guiding me out of the compartment. I hear several incoherent words, before Helis quickly closes the door, telling me to take a place at the small silver table near the sunny window. Clearly, we are not in district six anymore, as the sun gleams through the glass, embracing my dead white face. Helis sits down opposite me, before lighting up his old wood pipe, smoke dancing in the air.

"I hope you don't mind…" he asks with concern, as I slowly nod in approval. I can see the wisdom in his floating brown eyes, as his dark chocolate skin shines in the sunlight. Helis can only be one of those sensible old mans, who actually cares about whether or not a child dies as a fighter or by giving up.

"Don't bother with Aster. She has a soft side, she's just too melancholic to reveal it." he eventually says, looking at me intently, as I observe the roughness of his slight white beard. How can Helis know Aster good enough to figure out such a thing? Aster seems strictly indecipherable.

"Tell me about yourself Esmay." I only give him a tin desolate smile, refusing to mention anything about my past.

"Look, I can't help you if you're not whiling to at least give me a clue of who you are and how I can work with you. You know… sort out your strategy… encourage you to win." he express' carefully, making sure to make an emphasis on the work 'win'. Quavering almost annoyingly, I look into his eyes, giving in a long silence before replying.

"I don't think I can win." I say bluntly. Sighing, Helis looks at me with regrettable eyes, undoubtedly sorry of my fate. Even if I die, I don't see how it would affect him. He sees death every year or so, and it won't be a surprise if he gets back to district six with empty hands, without a victor.

"Let me guess… You feel slightly conflicted with yourself and you're not sure whether or not you should trust me… probably because of bad experiences. Mind telling me more?" Rather astonished, I directly stare at him, not minding hiding the small hint of a wince that crosses my lips. Pleased that he aimed right, Helis smiles, so brightly, that his white teeth reflect on his dark skin. Father did tell me to not trust anyone, but he only meant the other tributes, didn't he? Besides, Helis wants to help me.

"I'm an only child… my parents didn't quite raise me well. They never wanted a kid after all… Ummm… My mother… she died, of an overdose." I stop there. Never did I realize that my voice could sound so insecure. Nodding understandably, Helis looks at me, before calmly taking another drag of his pipe.

"Do you have any talents? Weapon knowledge, surviving skills?"

"I know a few drug effects. But I don't see how they can help me in the arena." I say with an airless voice. Helis simply grins, his wrinkles meeting near his eyes.

"I'm sure we can figure out something… Now leave me a day or so to think about your strategy and angle." He eventually says while standing up, before disappearing behind the silver door, leaving me alone, to contemplate the shining sun. I hope Helis knows what he's doing. He's been in this business for a long time after all. I'm positive of the fact that he will at least help me stand out and correct my insecurities.

Feeling the sun's warmth hit my ghostly skin, I wonder about the Capitol. Immediately, electric lights and neon colors fill my mind. After all the images and news on TV, I don't think I will be disappointed. Interrupting my thoughts, I unconsciously see Daphna coming to sit down opposite me. Putting her long blonde hair behind her ears, she nibbles her lips impatiently, probably waiting for me to speak first. As I said it before, her distinctive features make her such a beautiful creature to gaze at. It wouldn't be surprising to see every male specie fall for her, unless Capitolian men are very picky.

"Who is that?" I suddenly say, breaking the silence, remarking the fluffy white fur tucked in between her crossed arms. Two big blue eyes, directly stare at me, as my voice lightly echoes in the room. The animal ridiculously looks like Daphna. It has wide blue eyes, innocent features and white pelage which perfectly frames it's small figure, almost the same color as my escort's hair.

"I present you to mister Heart, _Rabbit Heart_. I named him like that because of his little heart-shaped nose." she whispers with a frail smile, staring down at the bunny, while caressing his back softly. Her traits seem tired and her eyes filled with a lonely gleam that I cannot identify. This pet must be a great value, for her to even bring it on the train, or maybe it's just a new trend, having a rabbit matching your hair.

"I bet you even have a heart-shaped box to put him into." I say, the pampered animal taking my attention as well.

"Yes. Actually, I do. A heart-shaped coffin. He will die in two months. He has a disease." Daphna states, rather calmly. Slightly shocked, I look at the rabbit even more intently. He doesn't seem sick at all, in fact, he seems like a newbie with long off-white ears, originally descending from the greatest heavens. Well, who knows, maybe Daphna changes her pet quite often too. Or she's just passive towards dead. Still, the way she looks down at the animal reflects that she cares for it. Maybe even a little too much.

"Oh. I guess he won't be the only one to die then." I mutter unemotionally.

"Talking about that… I truly think one of you two will win this time. Even though I say that every single year, I will fully devote myself to sponsors and every unpleasant procedure it takes to get one of you safely back in district six." she continues, wisely choosing her words, while continuing to stroke her pet. I am surprised by the seriousness of her words, revealing her business side. Taunting my dark grey eyes over her sullen expression, I can only wonder whether she meant me, or Daviel. Still, as her vivid innocent eyes sway up to meet mine, I realize that I have no idea what goes up behind her magic mind. Or I'm just not good at reading people, as Helis proves to be. Daviel was easy to decipher, since he's just plain annoying and like most people, deceiving. Still, Helis and Daphna have truly intriguing personas.

"You can't control the games." I state, as it was an indisputable rule.

"Oh darling… I can do so much more." she smiles cautiously, keeping her voice low, before standing up, Heart still in between her tender fingers. Lavishly, from the young and shy girl who tripped on her killer heels in front of Aster, Daphna instantly became a fine woman, who seems to know a lot more than meets the eyes. I believe that Daphna must be someone important back in the Capitol, even though her young age, who cherishes the diversion and attractiveness of an act. She completely fooled me.

"Now, we will approximately arrive in fifteen minutes, so there is no use for you to get a room. Besides, your prep team will perfectly take care of you. They are going to make you breathtakingly beautiful…" she warbles, exposing her perfect white teeth, before exiting the compartment, walking in an absolute straight line. I doubt her words.

Remaining in my silver chair, I stare into emptiness, thinking about the events to come, as the wagon gets dark, passing in a tunnel. In probably a few minutes, I shall be exposed live to the whole sponsor quest, trying to look and act my best. As a reminder, I begin to untie the knots of my jet black hair, now dried from the heavy rain from my departure. Not that I can pull that off. I am definitely not one of those natural beauties. I always considered myself quite average, with a tone of freckles and a troubled past. I don't see what or who could make me so 'breathtakingly beautiful'. Daphna has definitely lost hopes.

District six isn't quite far from the Capitol, judging that we need to be close, providing the transport the fastest possible. In fact, I may have repaired this train a few times. Thinking about it, my job was truly boring. I don't think I ever want to return to 'home' again. I don't miss it, and I'm so delight that I am here, in direction of my destiny. Even if it means my death, it will be better if I abandon everything behind, leave it in the past, where it's meant to be. _Would mother be proud of me? _


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Yay! Chapter 3 is up! (Finally... you guys can't imagine the time this took me.) I lightly consider this as a filler, not very much action, just presenting new characters... The parade and the first encounter with the other tributes shall be in the next chapter, even though I slightly begin to mention them in this one. As all the characters in this chapter, I feel as if I babble and describe a little too much... no? Please give me your thoughts, I really want to make this story the most prominent possible. So, I hope you like it... Enjoy and pretty please review? **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. Only the characters you don't recognize from the books. **

* * *

**Chapter 3 - Interested**

Shortly, the lights in the train come back again. The sunbeams severely blast through the window, inviting me to peer over the wedge. We arrived in the Capitol. Gigantic steel sculptures fill the whole island, shining rivers running around the land. It would truly reflect a paradise city, if the monuments wouldn't seem so unreal.

By the time the train arrives to the station, my body is shaking from the constant weaving and the cheering spectacle to which assist my wide and startled eyes. Truthfully speaking, the Capitolians are everything I've ever imagined. Dressed in fine clothes, gems and feathers, they all look different and happy, smiling and laughing, applauding and jumping. And all of this, for two tributes from district six. At first look, they definitely do not seem like crazy species, absolutely wanting to kill wretched children for simple reasons of entertainment.

Soon enough, the train completely stops, and I clearly hear the shouts and the joy spreading from outside. Daphna quickly rushes in the compartment, now dressed in a light ivory sun dress, with pearls embellishing her platinum hair-do. Again, she looks extremely divine, just as Heart, who she tightly clenches to her side.

"Esmay dear, we arrived…" she says smoothly, her voice definitely changed from the direct business woman who she was only minutes ago. Stalking past me, I quickly stand up, not wanting to make her wait in the surely filled schedule. We are roughly the same height, even though she wears heels, which accord her a few more inches than me. The rabbit still in between her fingers, she comes forward, a generous smile gracing her angular face. She passes a few times her hand in my hair, twisting the strands, making it slightly messier as well as more voluminous. Not minding her touch as she scrutinizes me, I keep my eyes floating in the emptiness behind her. Heavy pressure is waiting for me; I have to make them like me, in order to survive. The importance of the moments and days to come are unavoidable. With a little help from Daphna, she will probably know just the way to make me likeable enough to the Capitol's eyes.

"Such a pretty face… you definitely look like a baby doll. Irresistible!" she suddenly purrs, her tongue flicking over her teeth at the end of her sentence. I can't decide what she is so fascinated by. Is it my actual face or only the fact that I am simply different? Still, nobody ever told me that I looked like a 'baby doll'. What are dolls even supposed to look like? Do they have small chins, sharp cheekbones and light pouting lips like me? Or are they just plain and plastic? Dragging me out of my thoughts, Daphna's voice rings on the walls, notifying me that we must go. Her heels clacking on the marbled floor, I follow her, doing my best to keep up with her undeniably fast steps.

We meet Aster and Daviel in the adjacent room. Helis is nowhere to be found but Daphna quickly assures me that I will see him before the parade. The dark looks and rolling eyes that Aster constantly repeats make Daphna hurry up and order the porter to open the sliding doors.

Daviel nudges my arm, as for getting my attention, before he smirks, his gaze directed to the crowd. Looking at him intently, I try to discover his intentions, but Aster dryly pushes us forward. Her fierce look and aggressive frown strictly suggest that she doesn't want to lose her precious time. Daphna flashes jolly smiles, surely recognizing some familiar faces among the mob. As cameras flash constantly, I keep my lips slightly open and adopt a surprised expression, as well as smiling now and then. Looking over my shoulder, I see Daviel do the same. Irreproachably, he likes the media's attention.

Pushing through the crowd, we rapidly get into an expensive car, humping on the comfortable leather seats. Relieved, we soon arrive to what seems like the training station, even though I had to endure Aster's annoyed looks, as well as Daviel's poor attempts at breaking the intense silence. Thank god, Daphna kept calm, avoiding Aster's rude comments.

Before I even realize it, Daphna is practically dragging me through the doors, climbing stairs after stairs before arriving to large opened doors. The room is plain white, with a classic bathtub and other unrecognizable furniture. I didn't even realize that Daviel and Aster were left behind, until I see splendid new faces intently staring at me.

"Here she is! Oh. My. God. Daphna you were so right! She is absolutely wonderful!" shouts an extremely piercing voice, before skinny arms tightly wrap around my trembling body, hugging me in a triumphant way. I didn't even see the woman's face before I realize that she is clenching powdery flowers very close to my nose, making me slightly sneeze. Hearing my discomfort, she quickly pulls away, offering me a tissue.

"Gush, I'm so sorry! I was just so excited to finally see you! You have such beautiful hair! Daphna, you didn't tell me it was THIS black, it's like the darkest night shade ever! And gush, look at those eyes, I which I had those, I could match so many colors and patterns and…" she babbles childishly, before Daphna interrupts her. At this point, the agitated woman already gave me a yellow flower bouquet and touched my hair and face about fifty times.

"Andromeda! She just arrived! Give her space." proclaims Daphna, before contouring me and going to drop her pricy bags and precious pet on a near armchair. Andromeda continued to gaze at me, her wide sea foam colored eyes almost popping out form their orbs.

"I'm Andromeda, me and Anastachia are your prep team. I'm so glad to finally meet you, Esmay! Been waiting for this since this morning! I was so scared that we would have a silly tribute, but you are so beautiful! Gush, I can't wait to start!" she says, quickly pointing to a woman with folded arms behind her, before hiding me her view. Nodding, I smile shyly, confused of her warm welcome. Am I supposed to appreciate it or ignore it? I have to remind myself that these people are actually sending me to my death. Andromeda clearly doesn't seem to have much patience, while the other one, Anastachia, behind her, seems purely disinterested.

Andromeda is totally made out of flesh and bones, tall and skinny, with hollow eyes, which now and then light up, by pure surprise. It makes me slightly suspicious, about what sort of treatment she receives. She would look dead, if it wouldn't be for her piercing eyes and the joyful smile that goes up to showing some of her gum, which is garnished with beautiful white teeth. She seems to be in her early 20's, with a very bubbly and naive personality. Still, every time I profoundly look into her eyes, I can see a growing desire for help, and maybe comprehension. Her hair is a very similar to Daphna's pearl blonde, but it's still a shade darker. Her pointy nose screams silicone, as well as her cheeks, which seem to have triangle shaped implants in them. Nevertheless, Andromeda looks very beautiful, her turquoise eyes adding reality to her alien face.

"What are these called?" I ask quietly, looking away from her glittery features, to the flower bouquet in my hands. They are ravishing, soft yellow with an orange middle. I never saw something like them before. Mother used to occasionally receive roses from father, but it was only on special events, as her birthday, or professional achievements. It's not like I've accomplished anything. I didn't even win yet, and they are already offering me flowers

"Oh, those are daffodils, my favorites…" she expresses, smiling brightly.

"Andromeda, I had enough of your immature behavior! The poor girl is surely annoyed and we have to start to prepare her, since the parade begins in eight hours!" shouts Anastachia, the other half of my prep team. Her petulant frame clearly radiates that she had enough of the chit-chat, and that she wants to get the preparations done the quickest possible. Still, eight hours seem like an eternity. Am I really in such a bad shape that they have to fix me for eight complete hours? Why the heck did I have to arrive here this early? It seems like long hours are about to come.

"Are you annoyed?" suddenly asks Andromeda, turning to face me with a despondent look. I assure her that no, a smile spreading on my lips at her innocence, as the gems of her eyes bashfully gaze at me. She's looking at me with such adoration; it's difficult not to already be fond of her. Even though I it appears that I have more chemistry with Daphna, Andromeda and I will surely have an assured friendship.

"Enough! Andromeda, let's get to work! What will Lierel think if we don't give him the report in 3 hours?" shriek Anastachia, already having some weird products in her hands, ready to begin my metamorphosis. Clearly, she is more focused and exact in her duties than her partner. I guess she's the serious half, while Andromeda brings the joy and gossip in the work. Taking my hands carefully, Anastachia guides me behind a folding paper screen, demanding me to strip. Well, I guess I am not ashamed, not having anything to hide. Still, Anastachia scrutinizes me in an uninterested way, before flipping her perfectly curled hair in such a fashioned way, and turning away. I never bothered with my appearance, not having anybody to impress, but Anastachia makes me feel more self-conscious than ever before. Truthfully, she is the snobbish and unconcerned person I thought all Capitolians would be.

Afterwards, they instruct me to lie down on a hard table, as to perform some sort of surgery. Plucking and pulling hair, are the next tasks of my prep team. As I stay still as a wretch, Andromeda keeps chatting with Daphna, who relaxes, a glass of champagne between her fingers. She dances and turns around the large room, gripping on a magazine, while swings her feet in such a sweet way, it gives me the urge to dance as well. Anastachia keeps quiet, and only argues when Andromeda forgets to wax my left leg.

"Gush, Ana… It's no big deal; there's almost nothing to remove!" says Andromeda, even though I know she lies. She had been trying to convince her partner that I am perfect since the last hour. Still, Anastachia doesn't seem to agree, always giving that elegant eye roll to her 'friend'. Not that I agree with either of them. Andormeda has been practically harassing me with nice comments since she welcomed me in this preparation room. And I slightly feel bad that I didn't even say a word since they putted me on this table. I could have at least thanked her.

"Girls, she's has red spots from the plucking… It would be better to get her in the bath already." says lightly Daphna, raising her bleached eyebrows at the sign of irritation on my exposed legs.

Soon enough, I am almost drowned in a flower scented bubble bathtub. The warmth of the water wrapping around my body is enough to make me release the tension that has been building up in me. Even though Andromeda and Anastachia scrub every single of my ribs, I keep calm, and listen to their conversation.

"We like to do things the classic way… Don't you feel like a princess?" sighs Andromeda, before continuing to babble, her mouth not even stopping for a breath.

"Daphna, did Lierel tell you anything about his plans for the parade outfit? It would be such a shame to dress Esmay in a boring astronaut costume, it would be awful to hide her beautiful legs and curves…" dramatically mentions Andromeda. Lierel, one of the stylists of district six, is quite repetitive. He doesn't put any effort in his tribute's presentation unless he or she is truly prominent and worth the work of creating an original costume. He usually puts them in an astronaut disguise, even though district six rarely produces space ships.

"No, no, he didn't tell me anything… I'm slightly scared; it would be a bummer if he gets repetitive again. She can't pull off the rough astronaut!" states, Daphna, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she continues to search for new trends in her magazine.

"Gee, hope so… Did you see the recaps of the reapings?"

"Oh, wait I'll turn the TV on… Esmay darling didn't even see her competitors yet!" chirps Daphna, before pushing a few buttons, illuminating a tremendous plasma television, plastered on the wall in front of me. It is nice to watch TV while taking a lovely bath. But not when the faces you see, are the people you are meant to kill in a few days, in order to survive.

Unsurprisingly, district one and two are deceiving. Their tributes are all volunteers, bulky boys and charming girls, the fire of blood thirst already igniting in their eyes. Anastachia only makes a hushed comment about how horrible the short pixie hair looks on the girl from two, while Andromeda remarks every single detail, sharing her thoughts on her preferences.

District three passes, until district four comes up, to display a girl with tanned skin and major curly brown hair. She looks quite strong, as you can see some of her abs through her almost transparent shirt. Staring into the camera with her menacing cold eyes, I note that I will have to watch out for her.

Further on, the television presents a humble boy from five as his small district partner clenches tightly onto him. I register pity on Daphna's face, before she passes forward on my reaping, judging it would better to skip it. District seven is the standard mousy brown haired kids, with nervous green eyes.

The taint air of district height comes up, patched dresses and worn out jeans flashing in the ranks. At this point, Anastachia is rigorously shampooing my hair, the toxic product dripping in my eyes, blurring my vision. I can't see anything on the screen, but only hear Andromeda's sleek voice, eagerly commenting on the boy tribute.

"That guy looks so… handsome! Look at those dimples, perfect teeth…Wow…" she gushes, stopping to file my nails. As I rub my eyes, I can faintly see a figure on the television, a white smile plastered on its face. Andromeda stares open mouthed, surely fantasizing, until Daphna interrupts her thoughts.

"Come on, he's way too young for you. Still, with a face like that, 'Sponsor Me' could be written on his forehead." she chuckles, playfully shoving Andromeda's knee with her perfectly shooed foot, some glitters falling off of it. Even though I can't see clearly enough to judge the guy's face, Daphna's statement is truly false, Andromeda isn't that old. And I doubt that the kid from eight is that young either.

Abandoning my hopeless attempts to get the foam out of my eyes, I wait patiently, blinking, the rest of the tributes unrecognizable to me. Still, I feel slightly disappointed that I didn't properly see the male tribute from district eight. Not that I was interested. I was only curious, of Andromeda's standards, of who she finds attractive.

As I see Anastachia's face next to me, I can detect the illusion of a smirk crossing her lime green lips_. Can she read my mind?_

* * *

Time passes, until I'm ridiculously tired and annoyed. It's been about three hours since my prep team continuously babbles, hydrates my skin, brushes my hair, teeth and every single part of my body. My flesh feels slightly sore, and my feet are tired from all the standing that they require, but still, I feel fresh and clean. Daphna left half an hour ago, leaving mister Heart as well as all her expensive bags on the seat, desperately leaving me with my prep team. She said that she would return soon, intending to have a word in the fitting of my parade outfit.

Andromeda and Anastachia eventually put me in black underwear, the top feeling loose while the bottom a little bit tight. Anastachia irreproachably grunts a comment, until her partner states that I could always resort to plastic surgery to get a breast augmentation after the games. If I win. I never cared about my flat chest, and I certainly will not inject some sort of silicone into them, just to make myself more _desirable_.

Getting lost in my thoughts, I miss my stylist's grand entrance, which weirdly makes Anastachia flinch. The man is clearly smaller than me, probably in his thirties, but his gold colored eyes have an interesting glaze, forbidding me to stare. A chill runs up to my spine, my face quickly darting away from the judgmental look his raised eyebrows project. So this is Lierel.

Surprisingly, Andromeda is the first one to welcome him, going on to give him a devoted hug, just as she did with me. Never would I have thought that her bubbly personality could fit with this slaying eyed creature. He seems so cold and ruthless; he could only be a match to Anastachia, to which I look over, and see her secretly rolling her eyes.

Andromeda and him exchange a few bashing news, before they both interrupt in hysterical laughter, excluding us, his gold teeth sparkling against his tattooed skin. It seems that Andromeda's friendliness can win anyone over. Even Anastachia, who is too elaborated to admit that her partner brightens her work.

"Come on… Meet Esmay…" suddenly says Andromeda, as they both gracefully walk over at where I and Anastachia impatiently stand. He passes his eyes over my almost naked body a few times, contouring me, taking my cheek in his hand before stepping back.

"Walk for me…" he whispers, his tongue heedlessly turning in his neutral mouth. I do a tour, walking bare foot, slightly ashamed as I turn my back to him. As I return, I can see the small wonder in his eyes. Could it be interest?

"Good enough… Did she handle the operation well…?" he defines smoothly, turning to face Andromeda, not even giving a glimpse of a look to Anastachia. Speaking of operation, I really don't think it's the right term. Even though it was slightly painful, they didn't pour blood or anything. Lierel might take this very seriously, but his costumes are never really interesting.

"Oh yes, she didn't say much during the whole process, such a sweetheart…" chirps Andromeda gently, smiling so brightly she could faint from the constant stretching of her mouth.

"The report?" he then questions, turning to Anastachia expectantly, before raising an eyebrow as his menacing eyes travel over her frame.

"Honey, fruit prints are so last season..." he critiques, on Anastachia's corset and high waist pencil skirt embellished with lemon patterns. She looks at him with puzzled eyes and an open mouth, not believing his words. Truthfully, Lierel isn't better dressed in his black and gold jewelry. I sense that she's about to bite back, but Andromeda outstrips her.

"Talking about that, where did you get those handcuffs…?" she asks, pointing to his snake shaped bracelets, the tail twirling up until his biceps.

"Oh, my own collection, it will be in store this fall… It's it dazzling? Now the report! Quick I don't have much time." he says urgently, before Anastachia frantically picks up a note book, passing it to Andromeda, who reads it out loud.

"Sharp cheeks, wide grey eyes, button chin…" she describes me, before Lierel interrupts her.

"The negative aspects." he says sharply, as Anastachia gets to read the sheet this time.

"Her upper lip is very thin. Still, the bottom one complements it. Her eyebrows were quite tick and she has a slight gap in between her two front teeth. Her skin is very pale and dry, as the freckles are a little too much…" she continues emotionless. She typically sounds like some sort of robotic machine, enumerating menu options. It occurs to me that these people know way too much things about my body than I ever noticed.

"Yes… the freckles definitely need some coverage. And that horrible haircut, thank god she has long hair. Continue with the body." Lierel states abruptly, saying some rambling words.

"Her body is slim enough, we can see some of her bones, but her thighs definitely need some exercise, they are only 7 inches apart. She practically doesn't have any breasts, as for the legs…" continues Anastachia with a monotone voice, never looking up from her paper. Good thing, because I don't think she would want to see the disrupted look on my face. Whoever wrote those things wants me to be a skeleton. Seriously, I doubt Anastachia even has a 7 inches thigh gap. Andromeda surely has more, but she can be almost considered as anorexic, if she isn't already. Even after all the last three hours that she tried to convince Anastachia that I was perfect, and all the adoration Daphna gave me, I realize that the expectancies to fit for Lierel's interest are atrociously high.

"She has pretty long legs, very beautiful, if it wouldn't be for the bruises covering them…" calmly stated Andromeda.

"What bruises?" questions Lierel, as he gets down to the length of my legs, frowning at the blue and purple marks.

"Where did you get these…?" he asks me, not looking up, continuing to stare weirdly at my legs, which is making me slightly uncomfortable.

"I… I used to dance… and fell a lot." I mutter, unsure of my answer. The truth is that even I don't know where those bruises come from.

"Dance? Could you twirl for me? Ballerina style…" he asks quizzically. Nodding, I step back, and prepare myself, carefully standing on my tip-toes. I never truly learned to dance, not having the money. I guess I taught myself, feeling the mute rhythm and music in my veins, reaching my feet like electric streaks.

Even though I fell slightly embarrassed, by fear that my underwear will do a flash while twirling, I still give it a go, spinning on one pointed feet, while extending my arms, in what would seem like a gracious way. Just for a moment, I forget everything. That I am probably going to die in a few days, that my feet horribly hurt and that my body isn't good enough for Capitolians to sponsor. As I stop, a smile tugs on my lips, as dancing always brings me some sort of accomplishment and infinity I can never achieve when I'm simply standing. But what I'm even more proud about is the glint in Lierel's fierce black lined eyes, as if he truly got impressed. He smiles perspicuously before nodding, as he comes forward, starting to take my measurements. Andromeda flashes me an excited full smile, tugging Rabbit Heart between her arms.

"So girls, for the makeup and hair, I want big curls, wide eyes, reduce the freckles a bit and conceal those bruises on her legs, I really want to expose them…" states Lierel, pointing at a few pictures in his hands, to which my prep team brings serious interest.

"I thought she could wear some tights to hide those marks." nervously says Anastachia, to which Lierel gives her an utterly annoyed look, as if he wants to scream.

"Excuse me? Are you serious? Did you see those legs?" he asks, acidly raising his eyebrow at her comment.

"It's ok, we will use some concealer and powder. That will surely work…" defends Andromeda, an understanding smile at her partner's failure. Lierel then nods, before quickly leaving. Does this mean that he will actually do a new outfit for me, leaving the boring astronaut costume? Astronauts don't wear skirts after all.

* * *

Soon enough, my prep team gets to work again, applying pigments and creams to my face, while at the same time almost burning my hair. They don't let me look at myself in a mirror, but they are kind enough to allow me to eat a few raspberries, while caressing Heart's soft pelage. For the past two hours of hearing a hair dryer, there has been no sign of Daphna or Helis. They will surely come at the same time as my parade outfit, which leads me to think about the other tributes. After what I saw on TV, the competition is high, and after what I heard from Andromeda's and Daphna's enchantment, I assume the guy from eight will have all the sponsors, even though I didn't even see him yet. And I swear if Helis wants me to team up with Daviel, I would better go die in the bloodbath than try to survive with him.

Almost magically, Helis appears next to me, scrutinizing me with his brown eyes, before sitting down next to me, as Anastachia silently continues to curl my hair.

"So… How are you feeling?" he asks me, question marks covering his face at the view of mister Heart in my arms.

"Well enough, I guess…" I mutter silently, not giving much attention to his words.

"Do you know what you will wear for the parade?" he asks again, as I shake my head, continuing to eat my raspberries soundlessly.

"It will be short, really short… Lierel wants the whole nation to see her legs or something." playfully states Andromeda, as she comes back form the back room, with a new pallet of colors. She can't decide which one will fit better with my eyes, and at this point, I'm slightly afraid that I will turn out as a clown. Sighing in disapproval, Helis stares at me, flexing his knuckles.

"I didn't quite figure out your strategy yet, I still have to take a look at how those other tributes will act." he eventually says, as if this whole thing is an incredible mind game in which he had to decipher everyone's plan, even before they actually made them. I don't think anyone has a true idea of how they will play the games, yet. Except maybe the careers. But they are always so repetitive.

"As for the parade, I really want you to stay back, act like you know a lot, mysterious, a little wicked, charming, but still rather dark and manipulator, as if you knew everyone's secret…" he rabbles, before I can briefly stop him. It seems like Helis doesn't really know himself what I am supposed to be in public.

"How am I supposed to do all those at the same time?" I ask frantically, scowling at his long speech.

"Ok, just act like yourself, but with a slight twist. Slow your movements and stare widely. A smug smile can't hurt." he then says, before offering me a comforting smile and assuring me that everything will be alright. And that I should prepare my hand to wave. He then leaves, excusing himself that he has some business.

* * *

An hour before the parade, Lierel pops in the doorway, Daphna fiery following on his heels. She doesn't look too happy, as she constantly shakes her head in disapproval, fixing the white box that Lierel firmly holds in between his hands. My costume.

"Lierel! I repeat. There is no way that Esmay will wear that ridiculous outfit." shouts Daphna, accusingly pointing to the box, while Lierel casually ignores her. She is again, dressed differently, this time in a heavily embroidered dress with a diamond cage shaped head piece, the whole thing covered in pearls and divine ruffles. As usually, she is herself heavenly.

"Let me try it on at least…" I whisper from Anastachia's grip, still pinning my hair. I offer Daphna an apologetic look, as she purses her lips at me, trying hard to calm down.

Quickly pulling some sort of tight fabric on me, Lierel and Andromeda dress me up, while Anastachia makes sure that my makeup doesn't smudge.

"Well... It's kinda short. But it will fit her perfectly." somewhat states Andromeda, before allowing me to see myself in a mirror.

My reflection staring at me, the first thing I realize is my artistic shaped hair. The curls are very dramatic, almost giving them a vintage look. My grey eyes are still the same, only defined with gold and brown colors, while the edges are black, giving me more of a flirty look. Red lips and a few remaining freckles complete my face, as I dart my eyes down to the scarlet dress and navy velvet jacket. The skirt barely covers my aft, while the top is clearly meant to give full coverage to my non-existent breasts. I guess Lierel highlighted my most prominent features, while he hid the uninteresting ones. Only then do I realize that this outfit is non-other than a district six train conductor uniform. The gold buttons on the jacket matching with the gold pendant jewelry on my ears are perfect, while the high heeled ankle boots make me even taller. To say the least, I am very satisfied with the result, even though the skater dress is revealing a bit too much. After all, I have to impress them with something, no?

Incredibly, this outfit makes me feel slightly desirable, while the makeup and hair are pronouncing a more innocent look. If mother could see me now, I'm sure she would be impressed. But still not proud.

"I like it." I suddenly whisper, my voice coming out more naively than I intended to. The wide eyes and happy cheers are interrupted by Daphna's refusing glare and annoyed features. She still looks beautiful, even though she is clearly mad.

She keeps arguing with Lierel and Anastachia, pleading them to add at least a small piece of fabric to the dress. At the same time, Andromeda eagerly continues to spray my body and get me ready, implying that there isn't much time left. Al the voices and toxic products are making my head turn in a daze.

These people will very soon drive me crazy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Bonjour! Well here is chapter 4, which again, took me quite a while. It's slightly short, but I promise you guys, that this summer, I will update quite frequently, staying at home! Now this chapter, more action I guess? Right, the end is slightly confusing... But please read and review? It really encourages me to keep writing :) **

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the Hunger Games. **

**Chapter 4 - Confused**

Standing still isn't a form of art. Actually, it would be clever to begin considering it as one. It's been a while since I didn't move, insult or even said a word about the things they did to me. Now that I have to stand again, I feel like a hopeless rag doll shod in some painful pumps. Even though I wear boots, they hurt extremely badly. If Daphna should have rejected something from my costume, it should have been the shoes, not the itsy-bitsy dress. Quickened around by my prep team, I can't even imagine how they can walk in their weirdly shaped platform.

After a while of continuous arguments and cries, Daphna and Lierel decided to give up. They afterwards quickly direct me down, in the elevator, where the chariots are patiently waiting. Having a glimpse of the white horses, majestic chariots and some tributes, Daphna shortly hides my view, continuing to babble around about what I should most likely do out there and what not to even attempt to pull off.

"Just smile and be gracious! Give them something new… like attractively mysterious but definitely not nervous. Don't fake smile, everybody can see that… and since you opted for the short dress, don't look slutty in it, try to rock it, ok?" she continues, having to speak extremely loudly because of the constant buzz in the large room filled with 23 other tributes and their prep teams. Daphna can be very helpful and caring, but right now, I don't really want to listen to her. I zone out and imagine my entrance. I am incredibly nervous. What if I fall from that chariot or if the horses begin to run wildly? But I abstain myself of thinking about the worst; what if they don't like me?

Not supporting the standing anymore, I demand a chair and promptly sit down. Andromeda looks at me with a certain concern in her eyes before quickly continuing to spray. The parade begins in fifteen minutes, and she can't stop herself with the exuberant amount of glitter and hair product.

"Andromeda, enough! She should already be in the chariot!" shouts Anastachia, finally esteeming that the preparation is enough. While they guide me to the chariot, I can clearly see that the two sides and back of the carriage have been taken out, so the audience can see our costumes. I can't decide whether this is good or bad.

I catch sight of Daviel, already positioned in the gold carriage. As I expected, he is wearing the same train conductor jacket as me, his hair driven up in a stylish way. He looks good, but I can't help but be annoyed by the wolf whistle that escapes his lips when he sees me. His eyes directed on my extremely short dress as I embark on the chariot, he smirk to the point where it becomes terrible sickening.

"The shorter, the better? Or you're just trying to get attention?" he jokes, putting innocently his hands in his pants pockets. Just by saying that, Daviel proves that he's the one who's narcissist. I mean, who doesn't know that the costumes are chosen by the stylists? At least, I like it. And it seems like I'm not the only one.

Deciding not to respond, I flash him a snide smile. Even though I don't know Daviel so well, I am already tired of his banal talks and jokes. He is such a deceiving person. Still, I decide to keep conversing with him, the exchange distracting me from the stressful moments to come.

"Did you get flowers?" I suddenly ask awkwardly, referring to the daffodils Andromeda gave me earlier.

"No… Why? You already got a present from an admirer?" he teases, winking at me, which I find horribly childish. He is still a year younger than me, even though we are the same height. Daviel is really a fool if he thinks that he can get closer to me with his boyish grins and unfunny jokes. In fact, I always liked older men.

"No silly, it's just weird. I received this big bouquet when I arrived this morning…" I say lightly, casually choosing my words, not mentioning that they actually came from Andromeda. Let him think whatever passes his mind. Not responding, or actually not having any idiotic ideas to spread, Daviel turns away, an interrogative expression on his face. Ban, I won.

Looking over my shoulder, I catch gorgeous green eyes staring at me. The girl behind me has somewhat of an androgynous look, which is quickly ruined by the large aqua butterfly glued on her lips. It seems as if the district seven female keeps a secret, something that she shouldn't tell. Or maybe, she simply has a loud mouth, her stylist deciding that it would be better to shut her up for the evening. Her summer brown hair is tightly pinned up covered in flowers and leaves. She flashes me, as what appears, a smile with her eyes, even if is theoretically impossible. Not bearing her stare, I modestly turn away, finding myself face to face with Andromeda's comprehensive chat.

"Now, Esmay dear, be natural and gracious… Like that twirl you did for us, it was incredibly beautiful and refreshing." she says, fixing my hair, as I try to look at the other tributes surrounding me. Andromeda's sea-green eyes confusedly gaze at me, wondering who I'm looking for.

"Oh my god… look… there he is…" silently squeals Andromeda, discretely pointing her finger behind me, where the district eight chariot stands. In a swift movement, my head spins around, intrigued by the male tribute. Then, the most unique pair of eyes catch my stare. Outrageously, I can't help but smile lightly. Never did I see something so beautiful. The two orbs that wonder in the room are dark hazel mixed with an almost gold-is yellow. It is as if they directly came from the shining stardust of the night sky. But as my eyes follow the forms of his face and body, I become more and more disappointed. He has a strong jaw, a light tan and, of course, the usual dark blond hair. I can't deny that he looks really good and handsome, but everybody here can look alike. If it wouldn't be for his eyes, he wouldn't have anything special. As well as his smile. Bright, white, perfect teeth smile, which is weirdly directed at me. Oh god, he saw me. He grins gloriously, as if he discovered something he would die for. Or he's probably only looking at my dress, I can't surely tell. Not really knowing what to do, I engage myself in a battle of stares, an almost playful smirk playing on my lips. Let's see who can stand the other longer.

"Dude, that guy is really fixing you…" says a voice besides me, distracting me, making me drop my gaze. Stupid Daviel, always interrupting in the wrong moment. I can't stand him. I swear that I will commit suicide if I ever have to ally with him in the arena. Why did he have to ruin the moment? I look at him with what I guess would be considered as passive anger on my face.

Why am I even frustrated? It's not like Daviel have destroyed the biggest opportunity of my life. I don't even know the guy from eight. But something tells me that I should forget him, and really not try to fraternize with the enemy. Even after the bashful smile he gave me, I assure myself that I shouldn't bother with him.

"Don't. Call. Me…. Dude." I respond calmly, thickly pursing my lips. He smiles, knowing way too good that he did something wrong, and I can see in his eyes that he doesn't quite mind. As if he actually likes it. Soon enough, other voices quickly surround me.

"Esmay! Esmay! Don't wave too fast! " shouts Daphna, her mermaid lips nervously speaking as her hand squeezes mine before letting go. The prints of her ice cold fingers leave a shaking effect on my skin, dispiriting my body. I have a suddenly fear of falling and reach out for Daphna's hand, but she already stepped back, as the rest of the prep team. Andromeda blows me a kiss of good luck before turning away in her translucent heels. District one and their sequin outfits open the scene, as their chariot smoothly rolls out.

Currently, I have a deep inner need for quiet and peace. All the voices and anxiousness around me is driving my brain in a delirium. But it seems that my silence won't be reachable, as soon enough, my chariot drives into the platform. Immediate loud shouts fill my ears. The show has begun.

* * *

The lights are extremely exhausting and I can already see that my frail body will not be able to handle it. I feel exhibited in front of all these beautiful people. Their screams and sweet words bring me back to reality, reminding myself to smile and wave. I opt for the reserved girl, with a slight twist. I wink a few times and graciously blow kisses. For a second, I feel like I am the only thing they are living for. And I love it. As much as I enjoy myself, playing a character as Daphna did earlier, the Capitolian man and women that shout after me, make me uncomfortable. Of course the dress is short, but their resonant whistles and dangerous smiles are making me even more nervous. As if they want my body, perhaps even my soul. I feel like the crowd didn't get enough, like they want even more to show. A shiver runs down my spine, and I finally decide to turn away from the crowd. I intently look in the front of where the giant pedestal of the president stands. But I realize that these people are all waiting for my dead, and that's when my smile slightly fades.

But still, my movements become repetitive and my brain is in a delirious trouble. I see stars in my eyes and I can't rely on my instinct to know whether this is a dream or reality. I hear names being shouted. _Bailey. Clea. Aiden. _None that I recognize, until my name echoes on the walls. _Esmay. _As if a tornado hit my body, I freeze. It doesn't sound good. I don't like the way they scream, plead after me.

These people shouting and loving the show are non-other than our murderers. I choose that I had enough of these poor attempts at entertainment. Only Capitolians enjoy it after all. Grieving families give their children in sacrifice, and still, people require them to watch as they slaughter each other. For all the years that I thought that the Hunger Games where a fair play, I now realize that the vision of an outsider is nothing compared to the shock when you truly have to participate in these atrocities.

Mother believed in the country Panem used to be. She would say that it was a united nation, which was built on equality and fraternity, where everybody lived in harmony, trusted God and had peace. We could have all lived here, in the Capitol, if some weren't so selfish.

* * *

The rest of the evening goes at sonic speed. Voices vibrate around me, confusing my brain. The chariot gets back into the station and I feel every piercing eyes staring at me. I don't even remember the president's speech, until Andromeda mentions to me his extraordinary suit. Daphna congratulates me on my behavior and how professional I actually looked out there. No matter how cruel the Capitol may be, she must be one of the kindest creatures amongst them. Lierel offers me a simple kind smile. Like the birds fluttering in a summer breeze, I feel relieved to satisfy him. This means that he will put another effort to construct my interview dress as well. Even though the excitement for the parade was a huge mistake and disappointment, I look forward to the interview. I am going to try to make myself more memorable, if it isn't already done.

"Good job. You seemed slightly lost at one point, but you did well enough." suddenly says Helis, scaring my despondent bones. His tall form standing still next to mine, he seems terribly imposing with his dark skin shining through the spot-lite. Then I see, for the first time, the small diamond teeth embellishing his pink lips, since he actually smiles at me. Returning the affection with a sheepish grin, I turn away not bearing his stare, or more of shame of my scandalous outfit.

At the same moment, Aster makes her grand entrance. As a drunken man coming from a bar, she stumbles a few times, before shaking Daviel hand and whispering secret words in his ears. It slightly surprises me that she doesn't directly come to insult me. As much as I would like to hear their conversation, I decide to skip the ice queen. My attention is soon taken away by, again, the boy from eight. As his team bickers around him in adoration, I realize that it's his name that the ecstatic fans screamed earlier, Bailey. It's a rather nice name, in my opinion. But I soon realize that I am not the only one eying him. The way Lierel licks his lips at his view makes me wonder if whether or not he's homosexual. It wouldn't surprise me.

Soon enough, Daphna decides that it's time to go, directing me and Daviel towards an elevator. We leave Lierel and the prep team behind, Andromeda assuring me that she will be present at the super tonight. We enter silently, as well as both of our mentors, before our escort quickly pushes the 6 button, not allowing any one else in. The box in which we are sandwiched goes up, vastly obscuring my view. We took the stairs earlier this morning with Daphna, not leaving me the time to truly experience this new type of transport. Even though it's extremely convenient, I don't appreciate it at all, having a constant fear of heights. I guess Daviel silently snickers as he seems my dizzy and pale face when the elevator doors open.

Daphna presents us the whole floor in a rush, saying that we are in a slight delay in the program, and that we should undress and prepare for super quickly. She soon gives me my designated room, her blonde curls falling over her forehead. She is definitely exhausted, she would look perfect unless.

The room is more of a suit, something so wistful I've never could have imagined before. The walls are leaving me starry-eyed, reflecting the blue paradise of my dreams. The furniture is pure ivory while the expended bed is as soft as a lamb could ever be. But the most interesting part is the giant mirror gracing a whole wall. And when I get the courage to look into it, I realize how perfect all of this is. The peaceful bedroom behind me, the large curls of my hair, my favorite color jacket, my long bare legs and… No. The tiny scarlet dress ruins it all. I want to throw it off, right now. As much as I liked it before, I now realize that it doesn't fit me well, that it doesn't match the true is the dress in which everybody admired me, the one in which they liked my body and considered it as an object. It was a huge mistake, and in a certain way, I guess Daphna saw it coming. I wasn't myself, when I was out there. It was a less selfish, less sorrowful version of me. Even though I would love to change, I wouldn't want to become a person I wouldn't believe to become.

My dark thoughts confusing my brain, the first thing I know, is that I have to get the dress off, and bury it, bury it deep somewhere where I can never see it again. The dress reminds me of her, of the mother with eagle nails and pink cigarettes I once had. Red was her color. The story should be left behind; still, I can't get her out of my mind. I wish I could burn the dress, pour cheap gasoline on it and let the fire ignite. Still, the fancy garbage bag will do the job just well. And as I abandon the light piece of fabric in the bin, I return in front of the mirror, admiring the accomplishment. The colors in the background, my pale skin and dark hair, they all make a perfect match with each other, as if they directly came from heaven.

I used to have a very strong belief in God, knowing that he would rescue me whenever I needed help. Even though the Capitol strictly banned religions, I still considered the possibility of a superior spirit guiding me. Every night I would pray to find where I belonged. But time passed and I only rejected my faith, not believing anymore. I earlier promised myself that if ever, by pure miracle, I get out of this sticky situation, out of the Hunger Games, I will retrieve God and the opportunities he gave me, the ones I never truly used.

Until then, I am supposed to gain courage, to defeat my fears. And only then, in the sound of silence do I truly realize what I want to become. A victor of the Hunger Games.


End file.
